Dabbling in Falconry
by Ph0enix-Flyer
Summary: Once again, Merlin finds himself in a bit of a situation after he performs a transfiguration spell in his sleep. Things can only get worse when Gwaine gets involved - not to mention when a stressed-out prince and the rest of the knights join in. Can Merlin keep his secret and change back? Set between series' 3 and 4.
1. Chapter 1

Dabbling in Falconry

Chapter 1

Dropping a tray on the way from the kitchens, that was problematic. Allowing Gwaine into a tavern on the wrong side of noon, that was problematic. Letting loose a goblin which nearly resulted in the death of his guardian, that was problematic. Getting stuck as an old man and nearly being burnt on the pyre, even _that_ was problematic.

This... this was downright disastrous!

OK, granted Merlin knew he was probably over-reacting a little bit. But honestly, was it too much to ask for his spells to go right the first time for once? In fact it would be even nicer if his magic could tell the difference between when he was conscious and unconscious in the first place!

Stressing out was getting him nowhere. So, with an effort, he forced himself to calm down.

Merlin could admit that last thought was a little rash; both Arthur's life and in extension his own had been saved by his magic being so instinctual as to work when he wasn't consciously directing it, more than once in fact. But at the same time he couldn't help but feel that in this case it _was_ a little justified.

It had been a good six months now since Morgana's ill-fated reign. Outwardly, not much evidence of her short rule remained; structures had been repaired and job positions re-appointed. However, underneath the surface, the kingdom was still very much reeling.

King Uther was a broken man. He was generally always in a catatonic state and when he _did_ speak, very few people could talk to him without fear of some form of backlash – be it words or even a trip to the dungeons. As such, the kingdom was being led more and more by Prince Arthur and many were now expecting the prince to take a more firm role as Regent. Though nothing had been officially decided yet, the prince was as good as running Camelot at the moment regardless.

But that wasn't without its own problems. During the crusade to topple Morgana's immortal army, Arthur had knighted Lancelot, Elyan and Percival – commoners. He had also knighted Gwaine who – despite being noble by birth – wasn't exactly the traditional nobleman and had actually been banished from the kingdom at the time. It was a testament to how out-of-sorts the king actually was that he hadn't noticed the new additions, which was astonishing in itself considering how much it had thrown everybody else. Though none would dare outwardly oppose their knighting, the four of them were constantly shunned by nobles and servants alike – the former looking down on them and the latter not quite knowing how to act around them anymore. No matter the bravery and loyalty they had shown, noone seemed to be able to get past those facts. And that was nothing compared to how Gwen – the servant-turned-Lady – was treated.

Rumour was rife and it was putting everybody on edge.

Merlin himself was the only one out of the group who had taken a stand – now known as the Brotherhood of the Round Table after the table they had been seated around – whose status had not changed after everything was over. Though recognition of his efforts in emptying the Cup of Life would have been appreciated, in the end that was how Merlin preferred it. Unfortunately, this meant that Merlin himself was still treated exactly the same as before by the masses and while it was nice not to be talked about, some of the rumours he heard about his friends were devastating to hear.

Apart from the odd spell to discretely lift heavy objects and the like, Merlin had not used his magic at all since blasting Morgause across the council room. So last night he had taken the opportunity to peruse his spell book for the first time in ages. As was often the usual for him, Merlin figured he had fallen asleep whilst reading, and that was what had landed him in his current predicament.

Said spell book was now face-down on the bed and he shot it his best glare before heaving it over so that he could see the pages. It took every last ounce of his strength and once he had righted the thing he let out an irritated sigh.

Or he tried to at least, because right now he was a _bloody bird_. Who knew that birds couldn't sigh because of the difference in their lung structure? Go figure...

Merlin had only limited knowledge of transfiguration, but it was sod's law that he would fall asleep whilst reading the spells and just _happened_ to say one in his sleep to successfully transform himself. He wasn't entirely sure exactly what he was – he couldn't see himself properly for that. However, considering the barred feathers on his chest, as well as the bright yellow feet and thick black talons, he was pretty sure he was a bird-of-prey.

But that wasn't his main concern. Oh no, it was the fact that _he couldn't talk_ that was so bothersome. Without lips he couldn't physically form the words to the counter-spell and although he could attempt to do it mentally, he couldn't be sure he was doing it right.

There were four spells for transfiguration on the page in front of him; all allowing a human to take on the appearance of any animal one could think of. The first involved changing others and Merlin wasn't going to go _near_ that one anytime soon; the last thing he needed was to accidentally change someone into a toad or something and not be able to revert them back to normal. The second was the most difficult, but was easily the most practical. It was a transfiguration spell combined with a sort of projection spell, which allowed the transfigured person to retain the power of speech through some kind of telepathy. The third was actually quite dangerous, as the person who was changed acquired the basic instincts of the animal they changed into. Brilliant for if you wanted to change into, say, a dolphin, and not retain a human's instinct to breathe regularly. But it made it harder to change back because you would have to subdue the animals' instincts in order to concentrate enough to transform. The last spell was almost identical to the second, only without any ability to talk.

In truth, Merlin wasn't yet sure whether he had subjected himself to Spell 2 or Spell 4. He hoped to God that it was the former, but he couldn't exactly tell whether he was projecting his thoughts or not until Gaius came into the room and he could test it out. He had tried mentally saying the counter-spells to both, but neither had worked.

Seriously, Merlin had hoped he was past this by now!

His mental rant was ended before it began when Merlin was startled by Gaius calling up to tell him breakfast was ready.

Purely out of habit, Merlin attempted to call back. Only for a rather embarrassing cross between a squeak and a squawk to be all that came out.

There was a pause before the sound of footsteps could be heard as his guardian moved up the short flight of stairs to Merlin's bedroom. The door creaked loudly as the physician opened the door quite slowly, as if afraid of what he would find this time.

"...Merlin?"

Merlin couldn't remember the last time he had been so relieved to see his guardian and responded with a jubilant squawk:

"_GAIUS!_"

The physician physically jumped and responded with a shout of his own:

"Merlin! What did you do?"

"_You can understand me?_"

"What. Did. You. Do!" Gaius repeated frostily, though in his relief Merlin was quite oblivious.

"_Oh thank God! I was afraid I wouldn't be able to-_"

"Merlin!"

"_What?_"

Gaius just raised an eyebrow. It really was amazing how much he could convey with just that one facial expression and it immediately set Merlin off babbling.

"_It wasn't my fault! I was reading up on transfiguration last night, but Arthur had me run ragged yesterday so I must have fallen asleep. Really! I woke up like this!_"

During the warlock's hurried speech - which soon dissolved into observations on how much his body had changed once he awoke - the physician's eyebrow climbed higher and higher on his forehead. Despite his exasperation, Gaius was admittedly impressed; only Merlin would be able to perform such a difficult spell in his _sleep_. The physician knew the boy would have already tried to change himself back by now and obviously it had been unsuccessful. For now, he just let the warlock chatter away in order to work off his nervous energy. Then, maybe they could sort this thing out.

"-_but then I couldn't tell which of the spells I'd done until I tested out whether people could understand me or not, so I decided to wait for you. I would have come out earlier, but I could barely move the book – there was no way I would be able to get the door open..._"

Merlin trailed off into silence, finally finished. He had to admit that knowing he could at least still communicate in some way was a huge relief. And now that he had calmed slightly he asked the first burning question he had:

"_What am I?_"

Merlin watched as Gaius studied him a bit more closely. However, whatever response he was expecting, it definitely was _not_ for the man to suddenly burst out laughing.

Quite affronted, Merlin attempted a scowl. However, being a bird, he didn't have the capacity for such a facial expression. So, he merely ended up fluffing up the feathers on his head and neck, which only worsened Gaius' giggles.

After a few minutes Gaius managed to calm himself down. He made his way over to the bed and perched on the edge of it, careful not to knock Merlin over.

"I am sorry my boy, but fate certainly seems to have an ironic sense of humour. You're a merlin."

It took Merlin a few seconds to work that one out, but once it had sunk in all of the feathers on his body puffed up in his indignation.

If Gaius was honest, it had required the closer look for him to identify what species Merlin was in the first place. Although he was certain the boy was in the form of a merlin, he wasn't a typical specimen. The feathers on his underside seemed to be much more dilute in colour, with his belly being more grey than the usual brownish orange. The backs of his wings on the other hand, were a much darker shade of slate than was normal. The dark-coloured stripe across his eye was black and much more pronounced, as were the other markings on his chest and wings that would usually be brown. His eyes were the most significant change, being the same vivid blue that they usually were. The overall effect was quite striking.

He watched as Merlin tried the counter-spell a second time, his eyes flashing gold. Again it was unsuccessful. The boy turned back to look at him and if ever a bird looked sorrowful, Merlin pulled it off spectacularly.

"_What am I going to do Gaius? I'm going to be late to attend to Arthur as it is!_"

"Calm down, we'll think of something. Maybe there's something in one of my books? There has to be a reason why you're not changing back."

Gaius got to his feet and watched as Merlin shakily waddled over to the edge of the bed. He peered down to the floor; it suddenly looked a long way down.

"_Err... Gaius? Could you...?_"

"Of course. Watch your talons though; I don't want you shredding my wrist with them."

Merlin nodded – actually, it looked like more of a bob, but it meant the same thing – before daintily putting first one foot, and then the other on the hand Gaius offered and perching there.

Balancing proved to be a whole new basket of worms for Merlin. As soon as Gaius moved his arm upwards and forwards as he straightened, Merlin spun backwards. His stomach – or was it his gizzard? He wasn't sure - lurched as he ended up with his talons tangled into Gaius' sleeve as he dangled upside-down, his wings fluttering feebly.

"_I'm going to fall!_" Merlin shrieked, the statement accompanied by a couple of pitiful squeaks.

"Honestly Merlin..."

Gaius attempted to close his hand over Merlin's back and carry him that way. But the boy was fluttering his wings so much that the physician was afraid he would damage them, and no amount of soothing words were calming him down.

Sighing to himself, the physician instead moved to grab both of Merlin's feet – carrying him upside-down in the same way one would corral a troublesome chicken. He made his way into the main chamber and then promptly deposited Merlin on the table after pushing their breakfast bowls aside.

"_You could have carried me the right way up_."

"I tried. You were the one panicking."

"_I wasn't panicking! I was... trying to fly. Yeah, that's it._"

Once again, Gaius raised his eyebrow and he watched as Merlin shifted from foot-to-foot under his scrutiny. It was nice to know that he could still make the boy uncomfortable and prevent him from trying to lie to him, no matter what form he was in.

"Well, I suggest you be careful and keep your attempts at flight to a minimum. You may look like and be able to move like a bird, but you don't have the instincts of one."

"_Does_ _that mean I won't be able to fly?_"

Merlin understood that he needed to figure out how to change back before he did any experimenting, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had flown before on Kilgharrah's back, but there had always been a serious underlying reason for him to undertake that mode of transportation, so he'd never really had much of a chance to relish it. The times he had flown he had loved and there was something alluringly exciting about the prospect of flying _himself_ and not simply riding as a passenger.

"Oh you could. But it would be hard; Man wasn't born with wings so he has no idea how to use them. It would take a lot of practice."

Merlin was about to reply when the door to Gaius' chambers burst open, crashing into the wall with a _bang_. A grinning Gwaine walked in, followed by a more cautious-looking Lancelot.

"There's such a thing called 'knocking' Gwaine." Lancelot commented, closing the door much more gently behind him before turning to check the wall for damage.

Gwaine had the grace to look sheepish, having not meant to be quite so exuberant in opening the door. But with a flip of his hair, his usual grin returned.

"Mornin' Gaius. The stress is getting to our fickle Princess and he's spontaneously decided we're going on a hunting trip. So we thought we'd come and hurry Merlin along before he starts to moan." He looked up towards Merlin's closed door and started towards it. "Is he up yet?"

Gaius exchanged a startled glance with the bird sat amongst the crockery on his table, before looking towards the quirky knight – who had just flung Merlin's door open with the same flare as the other one – and making up a story on the spot.

"I sent him out at sunrise to collect some herbs for me. I'm a little short of the ones I need for the King's remedy, so I thought it imperative he get some as soon as possible."

To be fair it was only a half-lie, Gaius really did need to go collect some more herbs.

"Oh, fair enough."

Lancelot, finished with his inspection of Gaius' wall, came over to the eating area. "I'm sure Arthur will understand. It's for his father after all."

"Mm... I'll punch his lights out if he tries to moan at Merlin though; he needs to learn gratitude... Why is there a falcon on your table?"

Merlin, who had been trying to hide behind the water jug, jumped and turned to face Gwaine as the knight wandered over and leaned down to peer at him. Lancelot also turned to stare at him with similar curiosity.

Inwardly, Gaius scrambled for an explanation, though outwardly he gave no reaction and his answer was calm.

"Merlin brought it home the other day. It was injured; you know how he is."

"So the guy decided to nurse it back to health, I might have figured. Hmm... Merlin's merlin. Ha! That's a good one."

Chuckling to himself, Gwaine reached out and started scratching the back of Merlin's head. At first Merlin tried to pull away, but to his surprise it was actually quite a pleasant sensation and before he knew it, Merlin was tilting his head and closing his eyes as he leaned into Gwaine's hand.

"Cute little fella... I've met a man who specialised in falconry before. Once fully-trained they're good to have around, you know. People use them for hunting and they can be taught to carry messages too. This one's got the right temperament for it." Completely lost in the bliss that was getting his head scratched, Merlin made a happy little chirping noise. "I've never seen one with blue eyes though. Maybe it's a mutation?"

That snapped Merlin out of his trance-like state and he immediately pulled away and fluffed himself up, hiding his head behind a wing and feigning preening his feathers. With his head tucked away, he missed the widening of Lancelot's eyes as realisation dawned. But Gaius didn't and he sent an imploring look towards the knight, who nodded minutely in reply to the silent request. Gwaine carried on, unawares.

"Maybe we should take it with us? We can start trying to train it."

This time Gaius did stutter, not knowing what excuse to come up with to put the man off of his idea. But Gwaine didn't give the physician the chance to formulate words; instead he confidently picked up Merlin by encasing his wings with both hands and tucking the bird to his chest, then he strode from the room, chattering about gauntlets and something called a _jess_.

"What happened this time?" Lancelot asked once Gwaine's voice had faded.

"He transfigured himself in his sleep," the physician replied with a sigh. "Could you make sure they stay out of trouble? I have a feeling I'm going to have to search the library for more books and I really do need those herbs."

"Sure, I'll keep an eye on them."

"Thank-you Lancelot, it shouldn't take too long."

Nodding, the knight started for the door, only to be stopped by Gaius calling to him again.

"Oh and Lancelot? Merlin may look like a bird, but despite appearances he actually isn't one. Make sure he doesn't try anything stupid."

Raising an eyebrow in an unintentional mirroring of the man before him, Lancelot turned and made his way out, hurrying to catch up with his two runaway friends. He had the distinct suspicion he was going to have his work cut out for him – bird or not, Merlin always managed to get himself into trouble, especially when Gwaine was around to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

Dabbling in Falconry

Chapter 2

Lancelot found Gwaine and Merlin in the armoury, the latter tucked securely under the knight's arm and looking decidedly _un_happy about it. Gwaine was searching through the various leather gloves, glancing at each before appearing to decide something and tossing it away for another one.

"What are you doing?" Lancelot felt compelled to ask.

"I'm looking for a gauntlet."

"I can see that... What for?"

"Falconers wear them as a perch for the birds to alight on. It also prevents you from getting bitten or scratched – they have beaks sharp enough to cut through meat like a cleaver you know."

He went back to sorting through the gloves while Lancelot shot the now-struggling Merlin a glare. The bird closed his beak, fluffed up slightly and went still again, as good as confirming what the warlock had just thought about attempting in order to escape.

"Aha! This one's perfect." Tossing his chosen glove once to himself, Gwaine started striding for the door.

"_Now_ where are you going?"

"To find Elyan – I doubt he's finished packing yet and he's bound to have some spare leather lying around, right?"

Lancelot decided not to comment and simply followed him out and down towards the marketplace.

**-~-M-~-**

"You want what?"

"Two strips of soft leather."

"What the hell for?"

Elyan was reacting in a similar manner to how Lancelot had earlier. It wasn't that he didn't have the leather; in fact he had plenty and was more than willing to part with the trimmings that he couldn't use in making scabbards for his swords. However, he had learnt quickly – much like the others – that with Gwaine it was always best to ask _exactly_ what you were getting yourself in for. It was a means of making sure that nothing could be traced back to you, just in case Gwaine was up to something less than knight-like.

Gwaine shot Elyan a withering look before holding Merlin up in front of him like he was a prize.

"Meet Merlin's merlin."

There was a pause before Elyan looked at Lancelot for an explanation. From where he was leaning on a large anvil, the man in question shrugged.

"Falconry."

"Ah," with a nod the blacksmith turned back to Gwaine. "Let me guess, you want some strips to use as jesses for its feet?"

Gwaine's eyes lit up. "Exactly! I didn't take you for being interested in _birds_."

Elyan rolled his eyes at Gwaine's not-so-subtle jibe as he walked over and briefly studied Merlin's feet before turning towards his workbench and a pile of discarded leather of all types.

"I _have_ been around a bit Gwaine. I went out with a hunting party once in another kingdom and they used a pair of hen-harriers to hunt pheasants."

Coming back over with two thin strips of leather roughly a foot long, the blacksmith then proceeded to tie one to each of Merlin's feet, letting most of the length dangle loose. Merlin just let them get on with it, offering no resistance.

Once they were secure, Elyan clasped the ends of both in his hand before Gwaine perched Merlin on the blacksmith's same wrist. It was a method used in order to keep birds secure for when they were outside without having to hold onto their actual feet all the time. Somehow Lancelot doubted Merlin was going to be making any escape attempts anytime soon, but to be fair they weren't to know that he possessed all the flying capabilities of a stick.

Elyan nodded to himself before transferring Merlin over to Gwaine.

"They should do nicely. Where are you going to take it?"

"I figured the training grounds would be best, nice and open."

"Yeah..." Elyan picked up a gauntlet of his own. "I'm coming with you, though we're going to need some meat."

Lancelot had a hard time holding back his chuckle then. Merlin froze, seeming appalled at the idea of eating raw meat. But with no obvious way of getting out of it short of revealing himself, he was stuck. True, he could probably physically eat and process the meat, but Lancelot doubted he was _that_ desperate. The knight took pity on the warlock and decided to try an intervention.

"Aren't you two forgetting something?"

Both paused and Lancelot and Merlin watched, bemused, as they seemed to give that a bit of thought. Elyan then turned around and reached into a box underneath his workbench. When he straightened, he was holding a long piece of thin twine.

"To use as a creance." He explained.

Gwaine grinned. "Ah yes, how could I forget that?"

Lancelot couldn't believe it. Was Elyan actually getting in on one of Gwaine's crazy schemes rather than standing on the sidelines and quietly pointing out that it was a bad idea, as was usual? Honestly, it was like talking to children and it wore out on even Lancelot's patience.

"No, you idiots. We're supposed to be hunting with Arthur, remember?"

Gwaine, flippant as ever, scoffed. "Eh, he'll get over it."

With that he turned and strode out, heading for the training fields with Merlin trying – and failing – to remain perched upright and Elyan following along behind. Feeling the beginnings of a tension headache coming on, Lancelot rubbed at his temples before hurrying after them.

**-~-M-~-**

Being a prince who was currently acting as Regent, Arthur was above needlessly befouling the air. Swearing to the sky made one look uncouth and childish and was certainly not appropriate behaviour. He kept his temper in check, appearing calm and collected.

Inside however, he was positively fuming – they were an _hour_ late.

He had been waiting on the edge of the forest just beyond the gatehouse for his servant and his inner circle of knights, gradually getting more and more hacked off. Eventually his patience thinned enough for him to virtually growl at Leon and Percival, who both had the misfortune of having to keep company with the irritated prince.

"What is taking them so long? Merlin I can understand – the idiot is always late. And it wouldn't surprise me if Gwaine is lying in a barn somewhere with one mother of a hangover. But Lancelot? And Elyan?"

"I'm sure it's nothing Sire. Maybe something came up?"

The prince mused that maybe they were together, but it was unlikely. Gwaine, Elyan and Lancelot all lived in different wings of the knights' quarters, whilst Merlin lived with Gaius on the other side of the castle. The likelihood of them all being in the same place was minute. But if that was so then why were _all_ of them late?

Arthur shot a glare towards the tall knight before blowing out an explosive breath; it wasn't Leon's fault and it was unfair to take it out on him – after all, _he_ was on time.

"Well, I guess we'll have to go looking for them then."

With that Arthur stomped – no, _walked_, because he _did_ have self-control and he _wasn't_ disappointed because he _hadn't_ been hoping for a relaxed afternoon with those whom he considered his closest friends – towards the castle. Behind him Leon and Percival shared a glance before setting off after him, their long legs neatly disguising the fact that Arthur's strides were in fact a little faster than normal.

They made quick progress up through the lower town and on a whim Arthur decided to glance into Elyan's forge as they went past. Any hopes he'd had that Elyan had merely been held up by a customer were dashed when he found it empty of any errant knights or servants.

Carrying on up towards the citadel, they were about to cross the drawbridge and enter the courtyard when Percival stopped, looking towards the open grassy area which was the training ground.

"There they are." He said in his deep voice and the other two followed the knight's gaze.

Sure enough, there was Gwaine and after a moment or two they also spotted Lancelot and Elyan nearby as well. Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

Momentarily surprised that all three knights had turned up on the _training ground_ of all places, Arthur sighed and made his way over to them, making no great effort to hide his irritation.

Elyan and Lancelot spotted the prince first and Arthur was pleased to see both looked something akin to rabbits about to be trampled by a stampeding horse. Standing slightly off to the side, Gwaine had his back to Arthur and seemed to be prodding at something at about chest-height. He was chuntering away to himself, clearly not too happy and was completely oblivious to both the prince standing behind him and the two of his fellow knights who were discretely trying to get his attention.

In no mood for games, Arthur immediately barked in his best I-am-the-prince-and-not-to-be-messed-with voice:

"_Sir_ Gwaine!"

The man whipped around to face him and Arthur noticed that he remained in relatively the same spot and kept his hands behind his back, obviously hiding something he shouldn't be. He appeared momentarily startled before his face broke into a huge grin.

"Prince Arthur, fancy seeing you here!"

It was smoothly done. But if his caginess and the rare use of his title didn't mean Gwaine was up to something, then Arthur would gladly eat his own crown.

"You were all meant to be at the gatehouse an hour ago. I expect that kind of incompetence from Merlin, not my knights." Arthur couldn't be sure, but he was positive he heard a bird-like squawk when he mentioned his manservant. "Care to explain yourselves?"

Elyan looked sheepish. Whereas Lancelot was shooting what seemed to be an 'I told you so' glare at the back of Gwaine's head. Gwaine himself was completely unaffected; Arthur had never before met a man more comfortable in his own skin and the prince wasn't sure if the knight even knew the meaning of the word 'embarrassed'.

"We were trying something out – doing a little training if you will."

With that he stepped to the side, revealing what was behind him. It was a bird – a type of raptor with greyish brown feathers, black markings and a blue-grey tail and wings. It was perched on a crudely-made wooden stand; a long piece of twine dangled from the top and was attached to one of the pieces of leather that adorned the bird's feet. Arthur found himself oddly drawn to its eyes though. They weren't dark, bright yellow or even green. In fact, they were a strange cobalt blue.

For a long second, bird and prince stared at each other. Arthur felt a twinge of recognition...

The moment was broken as the bird broke eye-contact when Gwaine prodded at its beak. Arthur realised that the knight was wearing a sturdy leather glove and was holding a piece of bright red meat, no bigger than a thumbnail. He appeared to be attempting to get the bird to open its beak.

"Gwaine? What are you doing?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," the knight replied waspishly as he poked at the bird's beak again. The bird responded by turning around on the perch, flaring its wings as it nearly fell off in the process. "I can't get it to eat."

"And _why_ are you trying to-"

"I told you," Lancelot spoke up, cleanly cutting Arthur off. "Gaius said it was injured. Didn't it occur to you that maybe that was what's wrong with it?"

"Why did Gaius have a-"

"Its eyes are bright and its feathers are shiny, it's not a starved bird. Raptors are greedy little twats – the bond between falconer and bird is forged in food because their desire to eat overcomes their fear of man. I'm telling you, that isn't what's wrong with it."

"Are you even listening to-"

"They also stop eating when they're full. It was sat on the table when we got there, Gaius probably already fed it."

"That was at least two hours ago; it should have taken even a small bit by now. Maybe-"

"_ENOUGH!_"

The two bickering knights jumped, as well as the bird. The thing gave a startled squeak and fluttered slightly, before landing on the floor with a _thump_. Gwaine shot the prince a filthy look.

"You scared it!"

Arthur hadn't meant to and, honestly, how was he to know the stupid thing would give such a violent reaction? But it wasn't prince-like for him to show open concern for servants, so he sure as hell wasn't going to show remorse for scaring a bird. Instead he looked at Gwaine flatly as he leant over to pick it up and put it back on its perch, brushing his fingers along its back and wings after he had done so as a silent apology.

"This is such a farce; whoever you got it from, take it back."

"It's Merlin's."

"What?" Arthur really ought to have known his manservant would have a hand in this.

"According to Gaius he found it injured. He's gone to collect some herbs... though to be honest he should be back by now; it doesn't take even Merlin that long to collect a few plants."

Arthur sighed, still absently stroking the bird's smooth feathers. He couldn't remain irritated with Merlin if that was the case, he was the physician's sort-of-apprentice after all and Gaius wasn't getting any younger – it made sense to send Merlin out to do the grunt-work.

"We'll give him another hour."

It went without saying that after that they would go and search for him, the idiot seemed to attract trouble like flies to honey. He glanced at Gwaine and the knight nodded, picking up on Arthur's subtle suggestion. He looked to the others and they all seemed to be in agreement, apart from Lancelot, who wasn't even looking at him.

Following the knight's gaze he realised he was still stroking the bird. It didn't seem too happy about it either; glaring at Arthur's hand like it was some sort of insult. To be fair, it probably was. Arthur hadn't exactly been paying attention, so he had unknowingly been running his fingers back and forth through the feathers instead of one-way, messing them up.

"Sorry fella..." Arthur murmured, reaching to stroke its head instead.

It promptly bit him.

"Ouch! Fine then you ungrateful sod; you're as good as cat food!"

"_Prat_."

A long moment of silence greeted that murmured, barely-audible statement. Arthur wasn't even sure he heard it right.

Five pairs of eyes looked around in puzzlement for the source of the word. Lancelot, meanwhile, glared at a warlock who looked very much like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

Eventually they all gave up, passing the murmur off as either a trick of the wind or a poorly-concealed comment from one of their party. Leon broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What are you trying to give it? Maybe that's why it won't feed."

Wonderful, now they were all getting in on it. Elyan held up a bucket, which Arthur only now noticed that he was carrying.

"Its wild boar, the only thing I had that wasn't salted."

Arthur rolled his eyes and resigned himself to joining them in their little crusade whilst they waited for Merlin to get back. He now felt that it was safe to satisfy his curiosity. It _was_ justified, after all; he didn't exactly know much about wildlife other than how to nail them with a crossbow.

"What exactly is it?"

"It's a merlin," was Gwaine's reply and Arthur snorted in amusement. "I know right? Merlin's merlin - it's certainly ironic."

"Are you sure? I've never seen one that colour before."

"Sure it is Perc; it doesn't have brown wings and is too small to be a kestrel." Gwaine picked up the bird and turned it onto its back, poking at its tail to forcibly fan it out and then opening out one of its wings. "Yeah see? The bars on its tail and wings are different."

The bird didn't seem to enjoy being man-handled in such a manner and started screeching – a noise which went right through Arthur and caused him to cringe.

"Alright, it's a merlin. Shut the thing up and put it down will you?"

Gwaine obliged, placing it back on its perch before digging in his ear with a finger on his un-gloved hand.

"Gods, that's almost as bad as the noise a rabbit makes when it's caught by a stoat."

"What, did it damage your delicate ears?"

Gwaine glared at Elyan, not amused.

"Just because you're half-deaf from all that metal-bashing you do, doesn't mean I am."

"This coming from the man who spends almost every night amongst drunken men belting out tavern songs at the tops of their voices?"

"_Any_way," said Arthur, cutting off the impending argument. "So if it won't take pork, what should we give it?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Chicken? They eat songbirds, so I guess that would be close enough."

"You seem to know a lot about this Gwaine." Leon observed.

"Hey, I'm a man of many talents." Observations on this comment each man (and bird) kept to themselves.

"Right, let's get on it then."

With that Arthur collared a passing servant and asked for them to bring some raw chicken from the kitchens. The servant wisely kept her mouth shut as to the oddity of this request and hurried away to do as bidden. The prince and his knights all loitered around in waiting, most watching the merlin with open curiosity.

Arthur found himself oddly drawn to it and he couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be something obviously different about the bird besides its colouring. Its strange eyes seemed to contain just a bit too much intelligence and it was glancing between all the men watching it, almost as if it were uncomfortable with the attention. Surely such sentience was impossible for an animal?

To Arthur's amusement it fluffed up the feathers on its head and – quite deliberately, it seemed – turned its back on them, again nearly falling off the perch, before starting to preen itself.

"It seems to have problems with its balance, doesn't it?"

"Leon has a point. It's only moved on its perch twice the whole time it's been on there and both times it nearly fell. Anytime it's been moved other than that was when either Arthur or Gwaine picked it up."

It _was_ a good point. If it couldn't balance on a stationary object properly then it would have no chance with things such as getting into the air, no wonder Merlin brought it in.

"Has it flown?"

Gwaine looked at Arthur in a manner that implied he wasn't all-there in the head and he felt himself bristle in annoyance.

"It's tied to the perch. The string is only long enough for it to fall fully to the floor and not hang itself."

"We should see if it can."

"No. We shouldn't."

Five heads turned to look at Lancelot, who had been oddly quiet through all of this. He may be softly-spoken, but he usually had no problems with giving his opinion.

"Why not?" Gwaine was almost pouting.

There was a pause as Lancelot glanced at the merlin for a second, which Arthur thought an odd gesture.

"Say it turns out that it _can_ fly and it escapes? Do you want to be the one to explain to Merlin that we let it free?"

No, Arthur didn't. It wasn't that he was afraid of Merlin's reaction at all. No, it was just that the man's prattle was annoying enough as it was and the last thing they all needed was for him to start griping on about letting the bird go. There was also a part of Arthur that didn't want to see Merlin disappointed with them like that, but he swiftly pushed that thought from his mind.

"Point taken. Not outside then." Everyone turned their gazes to Arthur.

"What do you suggest then, Princess?"

"The old council-chambers have been fully repaired. They're still not used but there should be noone around. The ceilings are quite high and it's a large room, it should be perfect."

And was it just Arthur, or did the merlin go oddly rigid just then?

"Perfect for what?"

Arthur grinned at Lancelot and he could swear the knight paled slightly.

"Teaching it to fly."


	3. Chapter 3

Dabbling in Falconry

Chapter 3

This was definitely _not_ good.

Bad enough that Merlin had spent most of the morning being man-handled by Gwaine and then poked in the face with raw meat, but now he was expected to fly? And _in front of_ everybody?

Any remaining novelty in being a bird-of-prey was wearing off quite quickly for Merlin.

At first (after he had calmed down from his almost-panic-attack in Gaius' chambers), he had been fascinated with the changes to his body and senses. His eyesight, for one, was _amazing_ and his hearing was nearly as good.

When Gwaine and Elyan had finished making their crude perch and had placed him in the middle of the training field, Merlin had spent the first few minutes completely ignoring Gwaine and testing out his new eyes. He found that raptors could see much further away than humans could – when he looked towards the towers of the citadel, he could quite clearly see the faces of the servants who were opening the windows. It certainly explained how the birds could spot mice from high in the air – they had super-vision! Getting used to his third eyelid was confusing. He found that it was easier to 'blink' with his third eyelid – only closing the main ones to further protect his eyes.

He soon found himself almost constantly keeping his third eyelid shut when Gwaine kept insisting on prodding him in the face. Though he was gentle, the man was certainly persistent, and it took all of Merlin's self-control not to verbally chew him out or even try biting him.

And then Arthur had turned up.

Honestly, it was almost as if this was all planned to drive Merlin as close to a heart attack as possible.

For one heart-stopping moment, Merlin had thought that the prince had recognised him – his face flashing with recognition as their eyes met. Of course, then Gwaine had _poked him in the face_ again and the moment passed with Arthur none the wiser. Always a good thing, he supposed.

He had to admit, the knights arguing over him was extremely entertaining. But then Prince Prat had to go and bellow at the top of his lungs because the attention wasn't on himself. Balance was restored to the universe when Merlin's face promptly met with the ground. That in itself was a revelation: Merlin had just fallen the equivalent of a rather great height (for his new size at least) and come out from it completely unhurt, _and_ he discovered that the resulting embarrassed blush was covered up.

Of course, Arthur then had to go and add insult to injury and start _petting_ him.

Merlin knew Arthur's mannerisms even better than the clotpole himself did at times. So he knew the physical touch was a veiled apology that the prince didn't want to admit in front of his knights. Seriously, Arthur never apologised to Merlin – even when he was _clearly_ in the wrong – but he would apologise to a _bird_?

He deserved getting bitten. Truly he did.

Merlin also made a mental note that screeching wasn't appreciated and worked quite well in putting them off touching him for a bit. He would save that for later.

But now he was in a dilemma that no amount of screeching could prevent and Lancelot's version of help had been about as much use as a wax-fireguard. So, after being divested of the leather and twine wrapped around his feet, Merlin once again found himself tucked underneath Gwaine's arm as the whole motley crew made their way to the council chambers. They were probably going to throw him off of the balcony or something.

Yeah, this could only end badly.

Arthur pushed the doors open, all the knights making their way into the room behind him before Percival shut the door. The soft thud held a finality that scared Merlin almost as much as the long walk to the pyre had nearly a year ago. And that had been pretty damn terrifying.

Which was ridiculous because he could totally do this... sure he could. Maybe.

"Right then!" Gwaine fairly crowed into the room, his voice echoing amongst the pillars. "How are we going to go about this?"

The lot of them turned to Arthur and they all watched as the prince scratched at his jaw in thought. How the prat had gone from _condemning_ their little escapade to _leading_ it Merlin wasn't entirely sure.

Walking to the front of the room where a table and a few chairs were set up in front of the newly-restored window, Arthur dragged one of the seats into the middle of the room and gestured for Gwaine to put Merlin on the back of it, which he did. Arthur then pulled out a piece of cloth from his belt, which contained the raw chicken that the servant had brought just before they left the training grounds.

"First things first – we try feeding it the chicken." The prince glanced a few times between Merlin and the meat before tossing the bundle to Gwaine. "You do it; it seems to like you better."

Code for: I don't want to get bitten again.

Well, well, well, the great Prince Arthur _did_ have a brain after all.

Rolling his eyes, Gwaine unwrapped and tore off a small piece of the chicken while stepping forward to do as told.

Merlin's superior hearing clearly caught the knight's murmur of something along the lines of 'pussyfooter' and he shot an amused look at Arthur. The warlock found himself both saddened and relieved that he couldn't physically smirk at the prince, but that thought soon faded from his mind as he was subjected to being poked in the face with raw meat... _again_.

Merlin kept his beak firmly closed and repeatedly tilted his head away. After a few minutes he turned around on the chair – without nearly falling this time, he was getting more used to his new feet the more he used them – and presented his back to the group, hoping they would get the hint.

No such luck though. With a frustrated grunt Gwaine tossed the small piece of chicken to Elyan instead and bade him see if he could do better.

This time, Merlin had to try his damndest not to laugh. The knight was enthusiastic about it and pulled the most ridiculous faces while trying to get him to eat; making doe-eyes at him, sticking his tongue out and even miming chewing. Still though, Merlin refused to open his beak even the littlest bit and even Elyan soon retired.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

But as a group, they just wouldn't _give up_ and over the next few minutes both Gwaine and Elyan tried again. Even Arthur had a try, so Merlin decided to grant him an exception and opened his beak to bite the prince's finger again.

"This is ridiculous!" The prince complained in a voice that was close to a whine as he inspected his throbbing finger.

Merlin scoffed, though it came out as a squeaky croak. But Arthur seemed to understand on some subconscious level, because he shot Merlin a ferocious glare.

"You think it may be just a case of getting it started? Maybe if we forced its beak open for the first piece, then that may encourage it to eat?"

No, no, no! Why couldn't Gwaine just shut his face today?

Arthur's answering grin was almost feral, maybe biting him a second time wasn't the best idea.

"Aye, that might work."

Both Gwaine and Arthur started to advance and Merlin leaned backwards as far as he could go, knowing that he couldn't exactly escape them.

"Wait."

God, Merlin loved Lancelot right now.

Both of them turned to face the gentle knight, who was leaning against a pillar and had been since they entered the room.

"What? You have a better idea?" Arthur said while crossing his arms, looking every bit the Petulant Prince.

"Not really. But perhaps you should let the rest of us try before you go doing something so drastic."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but it was Elyan who spoke.

"I thought you were against the idea of feeding and training it?"

Lancelot just shrugged and with a grunt Arthur stepped aside, passing Lancelot the meat as he did. Stepping forward into Gwaine's place, Lancelot held up the meat, giving Merlin a sympathetic look. Under the pretence of trying to soothe and coax, Lancelot started murmuring quietly to him.

"Maybe you should just go with it, hey? They're only going to carry on."

Did he say he loved Lancelot? Yeah, not so much now.

Though Merlin had to admit that the knight was correct; they were only going to keep trying and as things stood, even if Gaius did find a solution there was no way that Merlin was going to be able to get away in order to change back. Not to mention that they were going to go looking for him soon...

No, Lancelot was right – the only thing he could do was to go with it and bide his time.

Clacking his beak once in frustration, Merlin darted his head forward and snagged the meat from Lancelot's fingers, swallowing it in one quick gulp.

Merlin had been expecting it to taste awful, but he couldn't have been more wrong; it had a slightly tangy taste and slid pleasantly down his throat. Merlin was also reminded that, in all the hubbub, he had never eaten his breakfast this morning. It felt like his stomach was one huge void and he couldn't remember ever being so hungry before. How could he not have noticed this earlier? Was this how hungry birds were all of the time?

"Alright Lance!"

Gwaine seemed genuinely pleased that Merlin had eaten and was soon shoving the rest of the chicken into Lancelot's hands.

"I can't believe that worked..." Was Arthur's stunned comment and Elyan nodded in agreement, similarly shocked. Leon and Percival just seemed amused.

Gwaine either didn't hear, or chose to ignore them. "That makes you official feeder then."

"Spectacular..." was Lancelot's only reply.

Merlin found himself leaning forwards slightly and Lancelot raised an eyebrow in an uncanny impersonation of Gaius before offering another tiny piece of chicken, which Merlin quickly snapped up. Gods, he was _famished_.

"Well, now that's sorted, what do we do next?" Arthur's earlier frustration had vanished and he looked at Gwaine expectantly, passing leadership over to him.

Said knight tossed his hair and clapped his hands before grinning hugely. Merlin however, didn't notice the excited gleam in the knight's eyes. His own were now well and truly fixed on the food.

**-~-M-~-**

So much for preventing Merlin from doing anything stupid... it was a little late for that now. The guy was eating _raw_ chicken and Lancelot prayed that Gaius was nowhere near this room – the physician would tan his hide if he ever saw this.

"Right mate, keep feeding it. However, each time, pull it a little farther away."

There wasn't much else for it other than for Lancelot to take his own advice and go with it. He did as Gwaine bid, and was quite amused to watch Merlin reaching further and further forward, now showing no qualms over eating the meat and contorting his body in order to reach it.

"OK, now hold the meat just out of its reach but put your arm in the way, meaning it'll have to perch on your hand to get at it."

Lancelot did as he was told and Merlin stepped onto his arm with no hesitation. Not surprising really, as he would probably have done that if asked anyway. But if Lancelot didn't know any better, he could have sworn Merlin was in a kind of trance; all he wanted was the food and Lancelot started having second thoughts about all of this. Really, the last thing they all needed was for Merlin to go tearing around after mice or something. At the same time though, he couldn't deny that this _was_ entertaining – Lancelot wasn't usually one for blackmail, but this would be excellent for future reference and he could only imagine what it would be like when the others discovered Merlin's magic as well.

They repeated the process a couple of times, putting Merlin back on the perch and making him step onto Lancelot's arm repeatedly and gradually increasing the distance until Merlin was literally leaping onto his wrist.

Something had to give eventually. On the tenth repetition, with Lancelot roughly five feet back from the perch, Merlin leaned forward and bobbed his head a few times before suddenly freezing. He glanced between Gwaine and Lancelot, suddenly seeming to come back to himself, before shaking his head, straightening and then fluffing his feathers up.

Lancelot laughed – he couldn't help it.

Arthur and the rest of the knights got up from where they'd sat at the table to gather around the perching-chair again.

"Now what?" Elyan glanced between Merlin and Lancelot, wondering why the progress had suddenly ground to a halt.

"We've hit a dead end. It still won't fly," was Percival's observation.

"Its balance is better though. It clearly had no problem jumping and it was using its wings to get the best distance so there's nothing wrong with them." Leon said, gesturing at the gap between bird and knight.

Lancelot nearly laughed again as Merlin lifted one wing and looked at it in puzzlement. Obviously the warlock really hadn't had any idea what he had been doing these past few minutes.

"So we're stuck exactly where we were before."

Arthur clapped Elyan on the shoulder good-naturedly.

"I wouldn't say that, exactly." The prince strode forward, picking Merlin up with both hands before he walked across the room to the door. "We've established that there's nothing obviously wrong with it. In that case it's likely a bout of laziness due to not flying when it _was_ injured. The best thing we can try is getting air under its wings and hope that motivates it. Gwaine? If you would..."

Ah hell, Lancelot really should have seen this one coming. But noone else objected and he couldn't interfere without looking suspicious.

As Gwaine stepped forward so that he was facing Arthur, Merlin shot Lancelot a pleading look. But Lancelot was rooted to the spot – there wasn't anything he could do and both he and the warlock knew it.

"Ready? I'm going to toss it, but for God's sake don't drop it."

"Don't worry about me, Princess. _I_ won't drop it if _you_ throw it right," came Gwaine's haughty reply.

Somehow that didn't make Lancelot feel any better, nor did it seem to reassure Merlin, who was staring straight ahead and not making a sound in Arthur's hands.

Despite the posturing though, Arthur _was_ extremely careful; dipping Merlin a few times to make sure Gwaine was prepared before finally chucking him across the room in one great heaving throw.

Lancelot held his breath...

Merlin himself made no real effort, in fact he even seemed to curl himself slightly into a ball as he tumbled completely gracelessly through the air to land in Gwaine's arms. The knight's catch was flawless and he clutched the bird to his chest for a few seconds, sharing a glance with Arthur, before looking down at him. After a second he lifted the warlock up so everyone else could see him. Merlin was sat dizzily in Gwaine's cupped hands, wings held away from his body, eyes wide and beak parted as his breath came in fast pants.

"I think we kinda scared the shit out of it."

Understatement of the century right there; Lancelot was terrified Merlin was going to have a heart attack! Arthur seemed to think the same because he made his way over and looked at the bird, seeming to be torn between disappointment and remorse.

"Maybe we _were_ a bit far apart that time. I can't think of any other way though – short of throwing it off of the balcony, which I think would just scare it more."

All six knights looked to the western side of the room, where the balcony hung at least thirty feet above their heads. No words needed to be spoken, that option was definitely out. Merlin seemed to have recovered from his little shock and was now shooting Arthur a glare that could have put Morgana to shame.

"Let's try this again then, half-distance."

With that, they set about trying to literally throw Merlin into the air, in the hope that the wind beneath his wings would allow him to take flight. After his initial trepidation faded, Lancelot actually found himself hoping for this to work. Technically-speaking there was no reason for Merlin not to be able to fly short of not knowing how. He also wasn't exactly going to get such a 'friendly nudge' the next time this inevitably happened and being able to fly would certainly be a handy skill to have in many situations. Merlin seemed to realise this too, because he started to work with Gwaine and Arthur instead of fighting them. He anticipated their throws, locking his eyes on the man opposite and then trying to flap his wings when they did. No joy though, and pretty soon both men and bird started to get frustrated.

"This isn't working." Gwaine said as he prepared to throw Merlin one last time.

"Maybe it's a fledgling that never learnt how to fly? Maybe it wasn't even injured in the first place? I don't know – we'd have to ask Merlin."

Leon brought them all crashing back to the present, reminding them that Merlin was still 'missing' and that they had been going to go and look for him.

"I nearly forgot about the idiot," Arthur glanced out of the window, obviously lost in thought. "Toss it here then, we should get it back to Gaius' and then we'll go and look for the fool. He's probably fallen into a ditch or something."

Lancelot would have had to have been a blind man not to have seen the worry concealed in Arthur's eyes. All of them did. But they wisely didn't comment.

However, Merlin seemed to see it too. Gwaine tossed him one last time and Arthur, distracted, half held out his arms. Lancelot didn't know whether it was his magic or some kind of twisted motivation, but it was like something suddenly clicked for the warlock. Fanning his tail, spreading his wings wide and tilting them just _so_, Merlin finally succeeded in his first flight – soaring across the room and over a now gaping prince's head.

Lancelot grinned, and he knew that the warlock would be beaming, even if he couldn't actually physically smile.

Merlin had done it! He was flying!

Of course, reality then came in the form of a wooden door...

Lancelot, despite being furthest away, was the first over there. He didn't know where the self-control came from, but somehow he managed not to shout out Merlin's name. It didn't prevent the tight feeling in his chest and throat however; Merlin had been travelling quite fast and all sorts of terrible scenarios were flying through his worried mind.

To his astonishment, Merlin was already up by the time he crouched next to him. He was blinking owlishly, but other than that and a tiny crack on the left side of his beak just under the nostril, he seemed completely fine.

"Phew, that was a close one." Gwaine was at his shoulder and after glancing Merlin over he turned his gaze onto Lancelot. "I don't think I've ever seen you move that fast bud, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Lancelot gave a half-hearted grin, too busy trying to calm his rapidly-beating heart to bother making up an excuse. He shot Merlin a silent glare which clearly said: 'don't you _dare_ do that again.'

"I think that's enough for today. Come on; let's get it back to Gaius' chambers. If Merlin isn't there then we'll need to set off and look for the idiot."

There were no arguments, and while the others started filing for the door Arthur offered Lancelot a hand up while Gwaine reached down to pick up Merlin.

But Merlin wasn't having any of that. Just as Lancelot grasped Arthur's hand, the warlock surged into a flurry of movement. Faster than Lancelot ever credited the warlock for in this form, Merlin shot up the arm that Lancelot had braced against the floor, scurried across his shoulders behind his head and then ran along his other arm and onto Arthur's. Arthur reacted instinctively, letting go of Lancelot's hand and causing the knight to land flat on his backside while the prince then reeled backwards, flinging his arms back as he did so. This seemed to be what Merlin was counting on; it acted like a kind of sling-shot, catapulting him into the air and allowing him to glide effortlessly across the room to the window, where he alighted on the window-ledge in a surprisingly graceful manner.

While the six men looked on in mute shock, the warlock turned and gave them all a seemingly triumphant look, before turning to stare out of the window. They could only watch, flabbergasted, as he reached his head up to pull the metal latch free. Then, Merlin lifted a foot to push open the window before glancing over his shoulder one more time and jumping out into space.

Silence reigned for a long time, then:

"Baggy _not_ the one telling Merlin."

The reply came from all five other men in unison.

"Shut up, Gwaine."


	4. Chapter 4

Dabbling in Falconry

Chapter 4

With the wind teasing at the feathers all over his body, the sun on his back and the thrill of motion in his stomach: nothing had ever felt more exhilarating.

Merlin couldn't accurately describe what he was feeling, but it was definitely one of the best feelings he'd ever had. Even flying with Kilgharrah – what with the sheer speed and the fact that he had known he was riding a _dragon_ – couldn't compare to the fact that he was soaring through the air on his _own_ power. _He_ was the one in control right now and it was _amazing_.

Adjusting the angle of his wings slightly, Merlin tilted his body to the left and headed towards the forest surrounding Camelot.

Much like the feeling of exhilaration as he was flying, Merlin also didn't really understand exactly _how_ he was even in the air. All he knew was that if he held his wings into the wind at a certain angle, he could feel them being pushed up slightly and this was what was making him float through the air. His tail kept him level and seemed to slow him down the further out he fanned it. Sticking his legs out also seemed to slow him down, so he kept them tightly tucked to his underside. If he wanted to change direction, he had to tilt down the wing on the side he wanted to turn in whilst raising the opposite one. It took a while, and resulted in quite a few sickening lurches in his stomach as he wobbled in space, but he was getting the hang of it. He knew that if anything other than a bird attempted this, then they wouldn't fly at all. Merlin guessed it was probably the feathers that made the difference – it was the only explanation he could think of as only birds have feathers.

But there was one major issue: height.

It soon became apparent to Merlin that he was still falling; albeit in a controlled manner. Obviously there was something that he still wasn't doing right, because after jumping out of the council chamber window – which Merlin still thought was _hilarious_ – the ground had gradually gotten closer. Despite what it may have looked like to the knights, Merlin knew it wasn't wise to view the landing he had made on the window-sill as anything other than a fluke until he had repeated the action at least twice more.

This was why he decided to head to the forest, because he better fancied his chances of landing in a tree than landing on stone... he had already learnt his lesson there; despite being a little more resilient in this form, he _did_ have one doozy of a headache from his brief acquaintance with the door. He didn't want a repeat of that and Gaius had warned him not to try anything unnecessary until another time. Too late now, but still...

For a while, Merlin just allowed himself to glide through the clear autumn skies. However, soon enough, he couldn't help himself; he was already out now, he may as well figure out the other part of flying while he could, right?

The warlock had seen plenty of birds in flight and knew that the secret to gaining height was flapping. Deciding he had nothing to lose, Merlin glanced at both wings – that was another thing, he could look at both at the same time with separate eyes, how cool was that? – before giving them an experimental flap.

_Big_ mistake.

The downward motion was fine, but as he raised his wings back up again the wind seemed to catch on them, jarring them uncomfortably backwards. This destroyed the streamlining he'd had and caused him to plummet like a stone; unable to open his wings against the rushing air. With his stomach doing sickening somersaults along with his body, Merlin screamed – the noise sounding oddly human, like that of a child – as he fought desperately to stop his death spiral toward the ground below. His terrified shout startled a flock of pigeons, which shot past him in a mess of feathers and rustling wings.

By sheer force of will Merlin managed to spread his wings once more, the muscles along his back and in his chest being pulled painfully as the wind mercifully caught them and allowed him to glide once more. Blood rushing in his ears and heart beating furiously, Merlin kept his wings rigidly straight as he fought to regain both his breath and his wits.

Holy _hell_ he did _not_ want a repeat of that.

Unfortunately, it looked like Merlin wasn't going to get much of a choice. His impromptu dive had brought him dangerously close to the ground and although he was crossing over a field right now, the forest was rapidly approaching... with him only about ten feet from the ground.

Knowing that unless he gained altitude he was going to end up with his face painfully meeting solid oak again, Merlin glanced frantically towards the fleeing pigeons. It was then that the warlock realised his mistake. As the birds flapped they pushed their wings downwards before pulling them backwards towards their tail and half-closing them, then lifting them high and straightening them out wide again. Before, Merlin had simply waved his wings directly up-and-down, which was incorrect – he needed to move them in a _sweeping_ motion.

Having no time left and being too terrified to consider the consequences of failure or any other, more magical options that could be open to him, the warlock copied the birds.

_Flap_.

Merlin's whole body jerked, causing him to pitch forward and have to frantically compensate for it with his tail.

_Flap_.

His flight steadied and there was a slight pull at the back of his neck as he felt himself speed up, the trees coming towards him at a more alarming rate.

_Flap_.

Merlin put all the strength he had into the downward stroke. His shoulders – already aching – screamed in protest, but he was too preoccupied to even remotely care. He felt his head push downwards slightly.

_Flap_.

He was still accelerating. But this time Merlin felt a greater push down on his head and he dared to hope was gaining height.

_Flap_.

He was!

Still flapping furiously Merlin saw the ground start to fall away. But he was much too close to the trees and, all too soon, he found himself amongst the lower branches. The warlock knew he wouldn't be able to break through the canopy without risking braining himself, so he did the only thing he could: he tried to stop.

Eyes locking on the closest branch, Merlin leaned back, lowered his tail and reached out with his feet. He was too slow, and paid the price for his acceleration. Although the bottom half of his body was stopped immediately, his top half kept on going. In a similar manner to his first experience at perching on Gaius' wrist, Merlin somersaulted forwards, head-first. The warlock's momentum carried him round the branch, just-barely managing to cling on with a foot and causing pain to shoot up through one of his toes. Not able to keep a hold, Merlin started to scream again when he began to fall before being cut off as he was suddenly stopped by a thicker, low-lying branch.

With one wing pinned underneath his side and the other dangling out into space, Merlin blinked dazedly a few times – not quite believing that he was safe and _alive_.

The shock came next, in the form of a wave of lethargy and breathlessness. Closing his eyes and resting his head on the bark in front of him, Merlin remained where he was, breathing hard and trying to settle himself down. Only now that it was beating so hard was he aware of how quickly his bird-heart could beat – almost humming in his chest.

A few minutes passed and gradually Merlin felt the pounding blood in his head subside, allowing him to hear the birds singing in the trees and the wind sighing through the few remaining leaves. Once his heart-rate was back to what he thought was now normal for him, he slowly pushed himself up to standing. But, as he gripped the wood, he felt an unexpected twinge of pain in the same foot as before. Wincing, he found that he had pulled a talon and that it was bleeding slightly around the edges. It was painful, but it could have been so much worse. He decided that there was nothing he could do for it now, so turned his attention to his surroundings.

Merlin was sat in a big hawthorn tree roughly six feet up – most average people would be able to pluck him down – and just on the edge of the field leading up to the castle walls. The main path leading from the forest to the main gate was only a short distance away to his right. The area was quiet; doing wonders on Merlin's frayed nerves and aching body.

Good God his wings hurt.

That was all it took for Merlin to remember. He had flown; for real this time!

Never one to let negative experiences get him down for long; Merlin glanced around for the nearest branch. Spying one, the warlock turned towards it and started bobbing his head as he judged the distance. It was only about twelve feet away and was slightly lower than his current perch – he'd learnt the hard way to start small – but he was more confident now that he knew what he was doing.

Leaping upwards, Merlin drove his wings down hard twice and then he leaned forward and flapped once more before allowing himself to merely glide to his target. He was more prepared for the landing this time, fanning and lowering his tail earlier and even adding a flap directly forwards at the end to stop his forward momentum.

He landed without a single wobble.

Bolstered by that success, Merlin kept repeating these small bursts of flight – an occasional bad landing being his only let-down and even then that was mainly because of his injured toe. He made himself a circuit, moving in a rough circle before deciding he was ready to start extending the flights. Eventually, Merlin was easily flying thirty feet at a time and could ascend almost straight upwards as well as stop. Now on a giddy high in his excitement, he was just considering attempting to fly in the open above the trees again when the sound of horses' hooves carried to his sensitive ears.

Turning his keen eyesight towards the castle, Merlin soon spotted the source of the sound halfway across the field: none other than Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.

Ah yes, Merlin had forgot that he was 'missing'.

Their presence reminded him that Gaius had been going to go to the library to look for any information on transfiguration. Successful or not, the physician was bound to be finished by now and if Arthur had done as he'd said he would have gone to see if Merlin was in their chambers before setting off. In other words, Gaius would know that Merlin had literally flown the coop.

Chastened and more than a little guilty, Merlin was just about to take off for the castle when the group's voices finally carried over to him. Curious, the warlock quietly trailed them; weaving in-between the trees and leap-frogging through the branches of ones he couldn't avoid.

If he hadn't been quite so pumped up with adrenaline, Merlin may have questioned the wisdom of his next idea. In fact, what he heard them saying almost put him off of his brilliant plan straight away. Almost, but not quite, and soon he was melting into the trees with his mind focused on one thing: revenge.

**-~-M-~-**

Arthur didn't want to admit it, but he was worried.

After that little rat of a bird had escaped out of the window, the prince had decided that there was no better time to go and search for his wayward manservant. As he'd suggested, the group had made their way to Gaius' chambers. But on finding both Merlin and the physician to be absent and pushing aside the twinge of unease that discovery brought, they had then made their way down to the stables and tacked up their horses. Now, they were cantering up the hill towards the forest.

Officially, they were going hunting. However, they never specified what for, so that didn't mean that they couldn't keep an eye out for a certain clumsy, dark-haired man as they were going along.

"You know, Merlin is going to have our heads once he finds out we let his bird escape."

Elyan, however, was a little more sceptical of Gwaine's observation and turned round in his saddle to stare at the knight incredulously.

"Please, Merlin? The man wouldn't hurt a fly."

"You haven't seen him when he's drunk mate."

"Merlin's a violent drunk?" Now it was Leon's turn to be sceptical and he nudged his horse so that it was alongside Gwaine's. "I find that hard to believe."

Arthur did too and he threw his contribution over his shoulder. "Yes. In fact, I don't recall Merlin ever _being_ drunk."

Gwaine actually snorted.

"Like you would know?"

Arthur tried to ignore how much that comment – however true it was – had actually hurt. As a prince, propriety prevented him from being allowed to simply walk into a tavern and have a drink as the rest of the knights here could. The only time he could ever enjoy a drink was in private or at banquets, and only with other high-ranking nobles; in that kind of environment, propriety then prevented _Merlin_ from having a drink.

As a result, even if he had already known Merlin enjoyed a drink sometimes, Arthur would likely have never been around to see him drunk.

So, no, despite knowing that what Gwaine was claiming was likely just a load of bollocks, he really _wouldn't_ know.

The young prince would rather die before admitting this out loud but, despite everything, he did consider Merlin to be his closest friend. Over the months, he and the rest of the knights in the current party had become fast friends. However, it was still Merlin whom he trusted the most – indeed it often seemed that he held the clashing personalities of their rag-tag group together. Deep down, Arthur also knew that at least three of the knights here wouldn't even be in Camelot if Merlin hadn't literally _asked _for them to come. It was a rare kind of person that could touch that many people of so many different statuses.

Jerking himself out of those thoughts before he got too far into analysing his _feelings_, Arthur slowed his horse to a trot before twisting to address the others.

"Right then, keep your eyes peeled – most likely situation is that Merlin's asleep under a tree somewhere."

Nothing more needed to be said and after seeing everyone's affirmative nods, Arthur turned forwards again.

"Which merlin are we looking for here?"

Really, by now Arthur supposed that he should know better than to encourage the man by rising to the bait. However, the stress of recent days – along with what he may or may not be willing to admit was worry for his best friend – hindered his judgement.

"Gwaine, I really don't care about a frigging bird."

"Merlin did, he brought it in to nurse it back to health. I'm telling you, he won't be happy if we don't try and find it."

"_Mer_lin has a priority complex. Forgive me if I'm more concerned with finding _him_ than a bloody bird!"

There was moment of quiet before the thudding of hooves preceded Gwaine's appearance at Arthur's side.

"We're worried about him too, Arthur."

It took Arthur's brain a moment to catch up with his mouth. Once he realised what he'd said he opened and closed his mouth a few times before scowling and nudging his horse forward again, putting Gwaine and his sympathy firmly behind him. Percival was the next one to speak from where he was riding at the back.

"Where are the herbs that Gaius uses found? That may help us to know where to start looking."

Everyone turned to Lancelot, who almost always seemed to know of these things. If Arthur were honest, he thought the knight looked a little sullen, almost as if he were sulking – very unlike his usual behaviour. Riding next to Percival, Lancelot looked up from glaring at his mount's mane, seeming to only just realise that he was the subject of their scrutiny.

However, before the knight could say anything, the air was rent by a high-pitched scream, making all six men jump violently.

The sound of steel rang out into the forest as six swords were drawn in unison. Remaining mounted, the knights glanced quickly about themselves.

"Which direction did it come from?"

It had sounded like a child and Arthur narrowed his eyes onto the forest around them, looking for anything that could be considered out of place. He couldn't help but flinch as the scream sounded again from behind him, making the hairs on the nape of his neck rise.

Bringing his horse's head around Arthur called, "To me!" before kicking it into a canter with the rest of the knights charging on his heels. They barely got twenty yards before the scream sounded again. From behind them.

Whoever they were, they must have managed to run past them. Whipping his horse around again – ignoring her snort of protest – Arthur started to set off in the new direction, this time on the heels of his knights. But then the scream sounded again, directly to his left. He turned to face it.

...Only, nothing was there.

Pulling his horse to a halt, Arthur dismounted before giving her a rap on the rump to move her along. The rest of the knights did the same and then seamlessly moved into a circular formation, protecting each others' backs.

The forest remained silent but for the wind and Arthur found that his spine was tingling – this just _wasn't natural_.

Suddenly, the scream sounded again, this time morphing mid-way through into a familiar bird-like screech.

Before any of them had a chance to do more than follow the sound upwards and above their heads, something small and grey dove out of the sky, aiming right for them. They all jumped apart in alarm, but what it was soon became apparent as it came to a rather abrupt landing on Gwaine's head.

"Oi! Get out of my hair you blighter!"

It was Merlin's merlin, ferociously tangling its feet into poor Gwaine's hair whilst furiously flapping its wings. The knight found himself unable to do much more than protect his eyes and dance around in circles, trying to dislodge it.

"Hold still!" Arthur shouted, quickly sheathing his sword and jumping forward to catch the little bugger.

He got within an inch of it before it lunged forward to bite him.

"Ah!"

Arthur recoiled. _How_ was it managing to bite the _same finger_ every time?

"I got it!"

Where Elyan got the sack from Arthur wasn't quite sure, but the sight of it soon drove the bird off before the other knight even got the thing fully unfolded.

Still screeching like a banshee it circled above their heads, getting gradually higher and still making that infernal racket. Gritting his teeth, Arthur's fingers twitched as he seriously considered shooting at the thing with the crossbow on his back. However, almost as if it knew what he were thinking, the bird screamed one more time before swooping off towards the castle. Just before it shrank into the distance a very loud, very angry shout rang at its back:

"I hope a sparrowhawk gets you!"

As he looked at the angry knight – whose usually well-kept hair was stuck up in all directions and full of leaves – Arthur found that he had never agreed with Gwaine more. But, after a few long seconds of panting silence, even the prince was helpless to prevent himself from laughing along with the rest of them.

They had been fooled by a bird. A bloody bird!

He was actually kind of glad that Merlin wasn't here to see this; they'd never live it down, otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

Dabbling in Falconry

Chapter 5

Laughter was a very human thing – there was no equivalent reaction in the animal kingdom. Merlin wasn't callous enough to think that animals didn't have at least some parallel emotions, but the simple fact was that it just wasn't in an animal's nature – or even in their psyche – to laugh. That being said, just because an animal didn't laugh wasn't to say that it couldn't, and right now Merlin was having a very hard time controlling himself, never mind flying in a straight line.

It was definitely a different experience to laugh in his bird-form. The aching feeling in his chest and stomach was the same, but there was no breathlessness and there were certainly no tears or flushed cheeks. In a part of his mind, the warlock reasoned that it was probably to do with lung structure again, in the same way that he couldn't quite manage to sigh in this form either. In the end, it wasn't exactly important to Merlin at the moment, though he figured he should probably make a mental note of what he was experiencing to tell Gaius later. The man loved things like that – finding out how things worked, what broke them and then what fixed them again. He supposed it came along with the package of being a physician; it was certainly all too common for him to indulge in games of 'Say What You See' when he was dissecting a body or diagnosing someone, with Merlin as an unwilling audience.

The thought of his guardian soon sobered Merlin up and he focused back on his surroundings.

He really was quite high up – almost dizzyingly so for his human mind – despite the fact that he couldn't remember trying to ascend much farther than to clear the tree-tops and avoid a branch to the face. In fact, he was still climbing and for a moment the warlock felt a slightly irrational fear come over him: what if he never _stopped_ going up? He couldn't recall ever seeing wild birds with that problem, but then who knew what they did once they were out of sight?

However, upon flapping his wings a few times, something in the air around him changed.

He only noticed now that it was absent, but there was a distinct lack of 'push-up' underneath his aching wings; which he had learnt when he first glided across the council-chambers was what seemed to make him fly and not simply plummet to the ground. There was still plenty enough to keep him at a constant height if he flapped every now and again, but he was no longer rising. Making another mental note to ask about it at a later time, the warlock angled his body towards the castle courtyard.

The views were amazing up here and now that he had to put less of a mental effort into his flying, he could finally appreciate the beauty of it. Despite the lateness of the year, it was a clear day and with his enhanced vision Merlin could see a beautiful carpet of autumn golds, reds and browns for nearly a league in all directions. He was almost directly over the castle now – about a chain higher than the tops of the flagpoles – and from that kind of height, Camelot looked vastly different. The streets of the lower town looked a little bit like those wooden puzzle games that children played with where you had to get the ball from one side of the maze to the other. It was a criss-crossing network of thatched roofs and dirt pathways, with people milling like ants in-between.

Once again, Merlin marvelled at this form's incredible eyesight. The little taster of it he had gotten earlier looking across fields and into castle windows at ground-level, he now knew had just been child's-play. Even from this altitude, the warlock could easily make out expressions on faces and even some figures that a tradesman seemed to be jotting down whilst leaning against his stall. Yes, Merlin really wanted to change back right about now. But, he could see the benefits too. Being able to spy on usurpers like this, rather than sneaking around and more often than not getting caught, would definitely make protecting Arthur much easier. Being able to play tricks on the priggish prince and be above suspicion whilst his magic was still secret? Well, that was just a rather nice bonus.

A head of white hair hurrying up towards the courtyard stood out like a beacon to Merlin and with a brief shriek of exhilaration, the warlock locked his wings and threw himself into a shallow dive. When he was human, Merlin could count on one hand the number of people in Camelot with pure white hair. Really, he didn't need the accompanying wicker basket full of freshly picked herbs to confirm who it was he was looking at.

Unfortunately for Merlin, he wasn't _quite_ ready for the skill needed to execute a downward-swooping landing at that speed just yet.

One second the warlock was just starting to draw level with his target and was aiming for a landing on the box of a conveniently-placed wooden wagon. The next he was looking into the widened eyes of a middle-aged woman selling tomatoes.

It was likely more luck than anything else, he could admit it. But, the warlock managed to adjust his wings just enough to swerve around the dumbstruck woman's head, saving both of them from a rather painful collision and he instead came to a more cushioned stop against the fabric which she had hung up over her stall to protect her produce. Engulfed in a sea of white, it took Merlin a few seconds to wriggle free from his crash mat. Once he had, he found himself lying on his back amongst a riot of white cloth and red tomatoes and looking up at the same woman... who had a bread baguette raised high above her head.

Was this his punishment for taking things a little too far with the knights? Probably.

With an almighty shriek, the tomato tradeswoman brought her weapon down in a sweeping arc right towards his nose... beak.

Again, it was probably more luck than anything else that saved Merlin a concussion, but he wasn't being choosy at the moment. Rolling out of the way just in time, the impact of the stale bread against the wood right next to him instead bounced the warlock nearly a foot into the air; orange seeds and squishy red tomato flesh flying in all directions with a loud _splat_! The woman's shriek morphed into a strangled yelp of surprise and Merlin himself ended up landing in a sticky, dusty heap on the floor. Tomato Lady recovered quickly though; yelling out inarticulate words of rage at the poor bedraggled bird at her feet, whilst using those same _leather-booted_ feet to try and stomp it into full submission.

Merlin did what any sane man would do when faced with a woman's wrath: he legged it.

By now, the surrounding tradesfolk were aware of the goings on and chaos soon erupted in Camelot's marketplace.

"Did you see that? The bloody thing nearly clawed Bethilda's eyes out!"

"There's tomato all over my lettuces!"

"Catch it before it goes for the chickens!"

Those were just a few of the shouts Merlin could make out as he tried to outpace the angry woman stomping along behind him, wounded toe and aching muscles completely forgotten. It did occur to him that he would be able to get away from the lot of them in no time if he could just get into the air. But, with all of the noise and with people thronging all around him, the warlock was just too confused to give flight any more than just a passing thought.

After one particularly close foot-stomp actually managed to pull out a couple of his tail feathers – and _ouch_ didn't that just hurt like hell? – the warlock shot underneath the nearest stall, darting around buckets filled with potatoes before turning about and starting to run back the way he had come.

But if the warlock thought losing the first tradeswoman was the end of his problems, he was sadly mistaken.

A movement out of the corner of his eye was the only warning Merlin had as a man came charging at him from the side. Staring in shock, Merlin backpedalled blindly sideways, feeling the shadow of another stall come over him just as the man dove into a flying tackle right for him. Though sturdy enough to cope with many, many pounds of fruit being piled on top of it, the stall was not made to withstand such sideways force and it immediately collapsed. All Merlin was aware of was sound and many large objects impacting all around him and the warlock buried his head beneath both wings in a means of protection that he knew would do no good at all if he were actually hit. But the anticipated pain never came. Somehow, none of the fruit hit him and after a few seconds, things went quiet.

Heart humming in his chest again from the combination of fright and exertion, Merlin lifted his head and cautiously looked about him. He got the brief impression of a shocked crowd of people and an immense pile of fallen fruit and vegetables stretched out across the street before he was engulfed in a blue-coloured cloth smelling strongly of herbs and picked up.

**-~-M-~-**

Letting the heavy wooden door to his chambers thud shut behind him, Gaius took a moment to lean against it in relief before moving stiffly over towards his table.

He'd been run off of his feet all morning and most of the afternoon too; first searching through as many magic books within the restricted area of the castle library as he could whilst fending off a curious Geoffrey of Monmouth, then seeing to some patients in the lower town which he couldn't put off no matter what, and _then_ having to go to the blasted apothecary to pay a ridiculous sum of money for the herbs he needed instead of getting hand-picked ones himself for free as he preferred. With a sigh of exasperation, Gaius upended his basket onto the table, spilling out all of its contents.

The plants were at least of a good quality – he could give them that one. The damp greenery was spread out in a rough circle across the tabletop, with a bundle wrapped in a blue cloth at their centre. After a few moments in which Gaius was sorely tempted to prod said bundle with a nearby fork, it finally moved of its own accord and a very rumpled-looking raptor poked his head cautiously out from his fortress of fabric.

Gaius couldn't very well describe the mixture of feelings he had gone through upon seeing Merlin besieged by a woman wielding half a baguette whilst shrieking bloody blue murder. The very image was completely absurd and yet, the danger of Merlin coming out of the situation hurt or worse had been very real. In the years Merlin had lived in Camelot, the warlock had become like a son to Gaius and for a moment, his heart had very near stopped in fright. It had been all the elderly physician could do to keep the poor stupid boy and his pursuers in sight and after that it was pure luck alone that the chase had ended virtually right in front of the hem of his cloak. Then, it had been his own crafty tongue that had weaved enough platitudes to the enraged tradesfolk to convince them that no, he hadn't just picked up the merlin-bird from a pile of sprouts and shoved it to the bottom of his basket; therefore yes, it must have escaped underneath the foundations of that house over there instead...

He loved the boy, he truly did. But really, this little escapade had gone far enough.

It was this righteous anger that Gaius settled upon as he leaned forward on the table and started drumming his fingers in an annoyed rhythm.

Merlin wasn't stupid and after a barely perceptible flinch, the warlock tottered out from the cloth and looked up at him with baleful blue eyes. Gaius was taken aback by the shininess of the boy's eyes; were they that bright earlier? Surely the boy wasn't trying to get out of trouble with crocodile tears?

It wasn't until Merlin staggered sideways a few steps, despite there being nothing for him to trip over, that Gaius caught on. Maybe it hadn't exactly been the best idea to bury such a small bird amongst a basket full primarily of valerian plants. Especially since a lot of the fronds had been damaged in Gaius' rush to hide the boy and had leaked their sap all over the cloth that had surrounded him.

Wonderful. Well, such a small, unrefined dose of a herb containing sedative properties wouldn't hurt him, at least. Besides, there hadn't exactly been much other choice at the time either. Gaius was more than happy to consider this his revenge for being put through all that he had.

"You want to explain exactly _why_ you were scaring tradeswomen half to death?" _Not to mention me._

He wasn't even going to ask how Merlin had escaped the clutches of Gwaine and the rest of the knights; a bloody toe on his right foot and a tiny crack in his beak surrounded by the dark beginnings of some spectacular bruising said it all. Nor was he going to make a start on asking how the warlock had even been flying in the first place.

Again the warlock flinched, but he kept his slightly-too-dilated eyes firmly fixed on Gaius. _"I really didn't mean to, Gaius. Honestly? I was aiming for you."_

Probably not the best choice of words right now and Gaius simply raised an eyebrow. Over the years, regardless of if he was even thinking the same thing that his target thought he was or not, he'd found that 'The Eyebrow' played quite nicely on a person's guilty conscience. If it didn't make whoever it was directed at confess, face their decisions or re-examine what they'd said or done, nothing would.

It worked like a charm on Merlin, as he soon hurried to amend what he'd said.

"_Well, no, I wasn't aiming _at _you. I was aiming for the wagon, but I was going too fast and... Good God, what did you _have_ in that basket?"_

Gaius watched with amusement now as Merlin shook his head in an attempt to clear it. A flurry of feathers and damp tomato seeds fell to the table as he did and Gaius felt himself wheeze as he struggled to keep his growing amusement in check.

"_I blame Gwaine for this. He started it!"_

Finally, Merlin fell over sideways and Gaius' facade broke. Both giggled good and long over the sheer ridiculousness of it all. All of this mayhem, just because of a spell cast in a young warlock's sleep? Only in Camelot.

When they eventually calmed down, Gaius settled on a chair and started cutting up the herbs to prepare them for either use or storage while Merlin wobbled over to lean against the water jug still sitting out from their aborted breakfast and watch.

"_Did you find anything in the library?"_

Gaius paused, hating to disappoint the boy but not able to give him any good news. "I'm afraid not. Your spell book is the most comprehensive collection of spells that we have here in the castle. If there's another book or scroll that has more information, I do not know about it."

Merlin visibly deflated and Gaius could certainly sympathise. Explaining Merlin's absence for a day was awkward, but possible. Any more than that and certain people would be asking some very difficult questions. Pushing away the herbs and tools he was working with, he leaned towards the dejected bird.

"All we can do is keep on trying. You know I would try and perform the spell on you if I could, but I'm nowhere near that powerful and... what?"

Merlin had perked right back up again, his eyes now shining with an excited light that had little to do with the lingering effects of the valerian in his system.

"_Gaius! You're a genius!"_

"Thank-you," raising an eyebrow, the physician accepted the random compliment and waited for Merlin to elaborate.

"_How could I have been so dumb? We _do_ know someone who can perform the spell for me!"_

Gaius' eyebrow climbed higher.

"_The Great Dragon! Kilgharrah has taught me spells before, I'm sure if I ask he can do it again."_

As with every time Merlin brought up the Great Dragon, Gaius felt a confusing mixture of feelings. He knew the dragon could no longer hurt Merlin and that there was actually a solid friendship developing between the two. But still, the past was not so easily forgotten. Not to mention that the knowledge of exactly who passed on the powers to Merlin brought up memories of Gaius' involvement which the man wasn't sure he wanted to examine closely.

"Can you even call him in this form? Remember, you can't physically talk."

Merlin thought for a moment, fluffing his feathers up in concentration. _"I'm not sure, I haven't tried. The connection between a Dragon Lord and a dragon is through their souls though. Even if it's not in the usual way, if I call, I'm sure he will hear."_

"And you are sure that this will work?"

"_Positive. When have I been wrong about these things? ...Well, when it counts at least? Trust me!"_

"I do, my boy. You know I do."

As expected for this form, the expression on Merlin's face never changed. But his eyes seemed to almost glow with happiness at the unexpected, and rare, affection in Gaius' voice. Moving away from the water jug to stand in front of his guardian, Merlin straightened to stand at his full, diminutive height and puffed out his breast, projecting pure faith and confidence.

"_I've got a good feeling about this, Gaius. Kilgharrah will know what to do."_

Gaius smiled a rare, full smile. Watching this one humble, brilliant warlock grow into himself had been an absolute joy these last few years. And they were nowhere near finished yet. It was at times like this when Gaius really could see the future that was whispered of in the Druid prophecies. Of the Once and Future King and Emrys – Arthur and Merlin – uniting all of Albion under one banner, a banner of peace.

The effect was rather ruined when Merlin over-balanced and tipped head-first into Gaius' lap with a surprised squeak.

"...Honestly Merlin."

**-~-M-~-**

Flying at twilight was a completely different experience than flying during the day. The strange effect of an inky-black night sky above made it feel almost as if he were flying through empty space and Merlin wasn't quite sure whether he liked it or not. It was one thing flying at night on Kilgharrah, when the dragon had been a constant, solid presence beneath him. But this was just... odd. His eyesight wasn't as great, either. True, he could see much better than he had as a human riding Kilgharrah. But everything had lost its super-definition; appearing now merely as flat shapes of black and white, with what little depth and definition there was being illuminated by the blazing red rays of the fading sunlight. His sense of distance was skewed, but he still managed to find their usual meeting place with relative ease.

Flaring his wings a few times to slow his decent, Merlin landed on an outstretched branch on the edge of the clearing. He'd really gotten the hang of this landing lark now and he settled himself comfortably; some unnamed feeling causing him to fluff up his feathers to ward against the cold of the rapidly approaching night. Winter would be on its way soon.

Letting the twitters of the birds settling in to roost and the scurrying of the nocturnal animals just waking up from sleep – noises that he had never been able to define before – lull him into a calmer state, Merlin closed his eyes and searched for that warm place inside that he associated with his magic. Magic and he were one and the same; the warlock couldn't live without his magic and he had no doubt that, if anywhere, this was where his soul resided: in his magic. Reaching for that warmth, letting it fill him to the brim and beyond, he snapped his eyes open wide, threw his head back and roared.

...Sort-of.

The screech of a bird-of-prey is well-known to anyone who has been on a hunt or lived in more rural areas. The noise Merlin made? The closest he could describe it was like that of a typical falcon, but warped into a strange growling echo that blasted out across the surrounding forest and quieted all creatures within hearing distance. He hoped to God that no people had been nearby to hear it. Something deep inside told him that his call would be answered though, so the warlock settled in to wait.

He hoped it wouldn't be long. After sleeping off the last effects of the valerian – though Gaius' excuse of not knowing the correct dose to give a small bird didn't quite sit right with him – Merlin had made all haste to get here and contact Kilgharrah. As of when he left, Arthur and the knights hadn't yet returned from their 'search' for him. It would make both his and Gaius' lives a heck of a lot easier if Merlin could beat them home in human form and claim that he had been around the whole time and simply never saw them. It was either that or let Gaius come up with an excuse for him, which he was _not_ going to do, thank-you very much. They'd all be thinking he was more of a drunkard than _Gwaine_ at this rate.

Merlin heard him before he saw him.

Snapping his head towards the north-east, a great shape detached itself from the horizon. In the last light of day, Kilgharrah's golden scales blazed red; glinting and gleaming like so many embedded rubies. It was only now that Merlin was looking upon something familiar that he realised how vivid reds had become to him with these new eyes, especially at sunset. Helplessly transfixed by the glorious sight, he was nearly thrown backwards from his perch as Kilgharrah landed in a flurry of rushing wind and leaves.

The warlock silently regained his wits as the Great Dragon swung his huge scaly head in a circle, looking for the Dragon Lord who had called him.

Merlin had seen many expressions on the dragon's face in the years that he had known him. But never had the transfigured Dragon Lord seen the odd mixture of surprise and bemusement that appeared on Kilgharrah's face as his great golden eyes swept over him once before shooting back in a comical double-take. His face then melted into an expression of pure glee – almost as rare, but for the fact that it seemed to be getting more and more common recently – before the beast dissolved into a great booming laugh that sent the birds in the nearby trees fleeing in terror at the sound of it.

Fuming silently, Merlin let the dragon have his fun.

It took a while, but Kilgharrah did finally collect himself. "Why is it, young warlock, that you manage to get yourself into situations such as this? Do you do it deliberately?"

"_Gaius seems to think so."_

That set the dragon off again. Oh yes, this was all _so_ hilarious. Moving on, please.

"_I need your help."_

The dragon's eyes were literally glowing with his amusement, made even more obvious in the failing light. "So it seems."

"_I transfigured myself in my sleep. I already know which of the four spells it was that I used on myself, but the counter-spell won't work."_

The dragon shuffled his wings slightly, lowering his head nearer to the perched warlock and becoming more serious. "Repeat the counter-spell to me."

Merlin was so distracted by the sheer size of Kilgharrah's head in comparison to himself, that it took him a few seconds to process the dragon's request.

_He could suck me up one of those nostrils if he breathed in hard enough... Eww, _bad_ thought. "...What?"_

Kilgharrah just snorted at him, so Merlin did as asked. When he was done the dragon's face lit up in amusement again, but he managed to refrain from laughing this time at whatever had so amused him.

"You were pronouncing a word wrong. '_Áwendednes_' begins with a so-called 'long a' sound, which is pronounced like the 'a' in 'father'."

...

...Seriously? That's _all_ it was? Maybe he should have flipped out when he first awoke this morning after all, as it turns out it really would have been _totally_ justified. He really thought he was _past_ stupid mistakes like this!

Kilgharrah seemed to sense the warlock's upset and frustration, leaning his head toward Merlin so that the warlock's entire field of vision was taken up by the dragon's golden eyes.

"Mistakes are a necessary part of learning, Merlin. You know this. Take heart that it was such a simple one."

That was true, he supposed. Though it didn't make the bitter stinging of minor failure any less. Nor would it make him any less embarrassed when he told Gaius.

"_I guess..."_

"My friend, you are doing fantastically well considering that you are mostly self-taught; particularly with the more difficult spells such as this one. You are your own worst critic, when in fact you should be proud of what you have achieved, especially in the last year."

Praise from Gaius _and_ from Kilgharrah? Maybe there was a silver lining to this whole farcical episode, after all. It sent a pleasantly warm feeling through the aching muscles in his chest and he would've smiled if he could. The dragon grinned again, and Merlin basked in the companionship that saturated the air around them.

"Do you want me to listen to you repeat the counter-spell again?"

"_No, I think I got it now. Besides, I need to hurry back before Arthur arrives home and finds me still missing. Flying is the best way."_

"Flying gives you the freedom of the world. There is nothing quite like it."

"_I know,"_ he replied wistfully. For the first time understanding _exactly_ what Kilgharrah was saying.

Golden eyes met sapphire blue for a long moment of shared understanding, before Kilgharrah stepped back to the centre of the clearing and spread his wings.

"_Kilgharrah?"_ The dragon looked at him again. _"Thank-you."_

Understanding that the warlock's words were for far more than just today, the dragon paused to smile one more time.

"And you, Merlin. And you."

With that, the warlock braced himself as Kilgharrah launched himself into the sky in another blast of wind and leaves. In an eerie contradiction to the blazing glory of sunset that he had arrived in, the dragon appeared almost ghostly white as he winged away in the silver light of the rising moon. Buoyed by the soul-deep friendship he had been once again reminded of, the warlock waited until the last of the wind had died down before launching himself into the sky as well. Wheeling up into a tightly ascending half-circle, allowing the last lingering breaths of warm air from the daytime to push him upwards, the warlock gazed fondly at the retreating figure of the Great Dragon as he disappeared amongst the emerging stars. He hung motionless in midair for an extended moment before finally swinging towards the soft lights of Camelot and for home.


	6. Epilogue

Dabbling in Falconry

Epilogue

With candles and a roaring fire keeping the cold and the dark at bay, Merlin reluctantly allowed Gaius' effective – if a little rough – treatment for stiff and aching shoulders.

Kilgharrah had been completely correct, of course. After landing just out of sight of the gatehouse, that one simple amendment to the pronunciation of his words had Merlin changing back to his usual form with ease. In his sleeping clothes, he had then crept unseen through the halls of the castle before greeting an extremely relieved Gaius with a beaming smile.

Groaning as Gaius manipulated his shoulder in such a way as to produce a rather loud pop from the abused joint, Merlin lowered his aching head to the table.

He would never trade the discomfort for the opportunity to learn to fly. But, even with Gaius' administrations, the warlock would definitely be paying for it tomorrow; his arm, chest and back muscles were all screaming in painful harmony. On top of that, the two actual injuries he had acquired in his little jaunt as a merlin had translated into one swollen and blackened toe, one _hell_ of a fantastic black eye and perhaps even a fracture on the bridge of his nose (Gaius wasn't completely sure about that last one, but it was much too painful for him to allow the physician to prod it over much.). Not to mention all of the bumps and bruises that ran riot across his bare back and chest.

"Maybe this will teach you not to go gallivanting around doing things that your body was never meant to."

"I didn't exactly – _argh!_ – have a choice, Gaius. Gwaine and Arthur threw me across the council chambers, what was I supposed to do?"

"You ran away from Bethilda just fine."

"And you wouldn't if you ever got that close? ..._Ouch!_"

"Mind yourself. The woman works hard."

"A little _too_ hard, if you ask me. She seemed a little highly-strung."

Allowing himself a small grin whilst the warlock couldn't see it, the physician released his ward and moved over to his workbench.

Wincing and stretching each of his arms out in turn, Merlin stiffly lifted up his foot to examine the bandaging there before pulling back on his sock.

"I wonder where my clothes went? You know, when I was in bird form."

"Who can say? There are many things that will never be understood about magic, even by you."

Merlin hummed thoughtfully in reply, gratefully cupping his hands around the warm mug of tea made from a mixture of birch bark and honey that Gaius set down in front of him before returning to the preparations of some concoction or another.

Both Merlin and Gaius jumped as the door crashed open for the second time that day, once again admitting Gwaine. The man's face was set into a serious mask, but it melted quickly into open astonishment as he caught sight of Merlin sat at the table. Frozen just inside the room's threshold, there was a muted grunt as whoever it was that was behind him found themselves unable to prevent a collision with the man's back. After a mumbled protest which Merlin couldn't quite catch, Lancelot's head appeared over Gwaine's shoulder.

"And where the hell have you been?"

Lancelot's irritated tone was off-set by the sheer relief on his face. Merlin supposed he owed the man big-time for putting him through the worry he had and for ditching him in the council chambers. Grinning sheepishly at the knight, he nervously started to spin his mug in slow circles on the table with a quiet scraping sound. He would have to catch the man alone sometime to apologise. Lancelot's sharp words did un-freeze Gwaine, at least.

With a beatific smile on his face, Gwaine strode across the room to sit in the chair opposite Merlin.

"And _what_ the hell happened to you? What's the other guy look like?"

Looking down into his tea, Merlin chuckled slightly. He was about to reply when Arthur himself strode into the room as well, his proud posture portraying nonchalance... or at least it would have been, if it weren't for the fact that the prince had just practically run into the room in his agitation.

"Gaius, I'm glad you're back. We searched for hours but we couldn't find... MERLIN! Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Merlin's headache wasn't up to coping with The Prat's Call right now.

"Is there an echo in here?" He asked with mild irritation, though he guessed he did deserve it.

Scowling, Arthur stomped across the room and threw himself into a chair next to Gwaine. Ignoring Merlin's comment, the prince fixed the warlock with a glare that was a little too searching to truly be angry; his eyes lingering on the injuries that he could see.

"What happened?"

Arthur's hand twitched, as if he was actually going to touch the bruising on Merlin's face before he decided against it. That or he'd thought about punching him. The latter was much more feasible.

Glancing at Lancelot hovering near Gaius' bench, Merlin lifted up his mug and drained the contents, grimacing at the overly sweet taste when he found that the majority of the honey had settled into a sickly thick layer on the bottom.

"I was on my way back from collecting herbs for Gaius. But I caught my toe on a tree branch and hit my head on this massive oak," depending on how you looked at it, those actually weren't lies. "I must have knocked myself out because when I woke up it was late afternoon. I made my way back here and Gaius patched me up. That's it."

Silence.

Arthur's jaw actually twitched a few times before the prince stood suddenly, knocking his chair to the ground with a clatter. He glared fiercely at Merlin for a few moments more before spinning on his heels and stomping towards the door.

"You, _Mer_lin, are a complete and utter _idiot_," were the words which were growled over his shoulder as he went. Then, after he had disappeared around the corner into the corridor: "And I still expect you to be on time tomorrow!"

Once the sound of the prince's boots had faded, Merlin groaned as he lowered his head slowly to rest on the table.

"Great, now Arthur hates me even more than he normally does," he mumbled into the sturdy beech-wood. "I'll be mucking out the stables for a week."

"Nah, the guy was just worried about you."

Turning his head just enough for it to be seen, Merlin raised an eyebrow at Gwaine. True, the warlock knew himself that Arthur didn't hate him in the slightest. But, hearing a comment like that from Gwaine was almost unheard of.

But the knight merely shrugged. "I'm serious. You should have seen him in the forest: he was working himself up into a right tizzy."

Merlin lifted his head again. "Are we talking about the same Arthur, here?"

"Honest! He said he'd rather look for you than some stupid bird... which _he_ lost by the way."

He'd been waiting for that to come up, and it was so typical of Gwaine to point the finger at Arthur whilst the prince wasn't here to say a word against it.

"...Bird?" He asked, screwing his face up slightly in question.

"You know, your merlin?"

Merlin took a moment to feign puzzling that statement over before allowing his face to light up with realisation. It was actually getting quite disturbing how good he had become at acting like this.

"Oh, _that_ merlin. It was fully healed; I was going to set it free when Arthur actually gave me chance to do so. You've saved me a job by letting it go."

"Oh. Well, good." Leaning back in his chair, the knight started running his fingers through the knots in his hair. "The bastard seemed to have a thing against decent hair."

Gwaine winced and then pulled a face at the twig he had just extracted before flicking it into the nearby fire. He completely missed the amused twitch of Merlin's lips as the warlock only-just held a smirk at bay.

"Speaking of, I need a good bath and a tankard of mead after today." Standing up and then righting the chair Arthur had abused, Gwaine called across to Lancelot, who had been talking quietly with Gaius. "Fancy joining me, Lance my good man?"

"For the bath or for the drink?"

There was a stunned pause before Gwaine threw back his head in a loud laugh.

"Ooh! That was good! I'll admit it; I set myself up for that one. There's hope for you yet."

"I try." Coming closer to Merlin's table, the gentle knight cast a quick glance over the warlock. "You sure you're going to be alright? We can talk to Arthur if you want."

Smiling in gratitude at these two fantastic friends he had, Merlin shook his head. "It's nothing Gaius can't fix, and I've dealt with much worse from Arthur before. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Lancelot replied with a nod, which Merlin returned.

Clapping his hands together, Gwaine span to face the door, giving Lancelot a friendly shove towards it whilst he was at it.

"Well then, tavern's a-calling. Good to see you're alright Merlin."

Smacking the warlock companionably in the shoulder as he passed, Gwaine left the room; propelling Lancelot in front of him as he went. Merlin grinned at their retreating backs. At least he did until they disappeared into the corridor, at which point he allowed his smile to fall into a grimace as he reached up to gingerly hold the shoulder that had once-again resumed its painful throbbing. He lowered his arm as Gaius appeared at his side once more, holding a mortar filled with the salve he had prepared. Whatever was in it positively stank, but Merlin had to admit that the warm tingling which was emanating from wherever it was applied was incredibly soothing.

"You're becoming quite the actor, Merlin."

"I know..." There was a brief pause. "Do you think there'll ever be a time where I don't have to lie like that all of the time?"

Putting down the mortar, Gaius started gently wrapping light bandages over Merlin's shoulders and chest to prevent him from rubbing the salve off as he moved about in his sleep.

"Your time will come, my boy. Patience is a virtue, you know."

"Ha, and whoever came up with _that_ particular virtue clearly never had to wait for anything."

Prodding the pouting warlock in the ribs and causing him to huff out a reluctant noise of amusement, Gaius very gently applied a final smudge of salve to the warlock's nose and under his eyes before turning back to his bench.

Standing from his place at the table, Merlin gingerly pulled on his shirt, ready for bed. Turning to face his room, he looked up to find Gaius stood at the bottom of his stairs, holding out a small piece of cloth that was soaked in some kind of greenish liquid.

"...What's that for?"

"Valerian," the physician replied, his face deadpan blank. "Thought it might help you sleep."

Merlin didn't care if it was painful, he laughed long and hard at that one.

The warlock went to bed that night exhausted and aching, true. But he also laid down his weary head with a renewed hope for the future and the surprises that it may bring. With friends like he had? There was no way that they couldn't defeat whatever fate threw their way.

He was pleasantly surprised upon waking up at mid-morning the following day to find that Arthur had actually come to Gaius personally and instructed him not to wake Merlin up for work.

Yes, the future was indeed definitely something to look forward to.

**-~-M-~-**

_**After SPAMing your email inboxes with new chapters after I fudged up and never saw a 'Replace Chapter' button that was right under my nose, that's finally it!**_

_**I'm sorry that I ended up leaving this story on such a long and unannounced hiatus, everybody. I don't have any solid excuse, save that I was swallowed up by other fandoms (it took me over a year just to catch up on all seven seasons of **_**Supernatural**_**) and that I've been attending University.**_

_**I've gotten quite a few PMs and reviews asking me if I was dead over the past months and years and y'all and have no idea how much those meant to me and prevented me from taking the story down until I could finish it. So a heartfelt thank-you to all of you!**_

_**In terms of my other stories, 'Swords, Magic, Conundrums and Enigmas' and 'On the Wings of a Butterfly' haven't really progressed yet. But after finishing this story and with the new series of Merlin starting today, I'll never say never! Especially considering I want to have a try at the Dreaded Conversation before my view of how it would go is tempered by anything the TV show itself may come up with.**_

_**Speaking of the TV series... I'm wanting to try livestreaming it again, like I did last year with series 4. The information is on my profile, though if you're not sure, send me a PM.**_

_**Thanks everybody!**_

_**XD :D XD**_


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